


Stuck On You

by wackyjacqs



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:53:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23701897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wackyjacqs/pseuds/wackyjacqs
Summary: “Carter,” a little puff of air ruffles her fringe as he sighs, “please tell me you’re – that sweater – that you’ve – ”He refuses to meet Sam’s gaze, but given their close proximity, he feels every movement as she slowly shakes her head.“No, sir.”“Yeah,” he murmurs, “that’s what I figured.”
Relationships: Samantha "Sam" Carter/Jack O'Neill
Comments: 47
Kudos: 134





	Stuck On You

**Author's Note:**

> Set during season 7, purely because I love the chemistry between Sam and Jack in this season.

He opens the front door, only mildly surprised to find his second-in-command standing on the other side and he gives her a quick onceover as he casually leans against the door jamb.

“You’re early.”

As Sam glances down at her feet, Jack can’t help but grin as she starts to blush.

“I know, sir,” she says quietly as she meets his eye. “Is this a bad time?”

A low chuckle escapes him as he pushes himself off the frame. “We’re having a _team_ night, major.”

“Yes, sir,” she answers warily, her blush deepening, “but… I’m early.”

He gestures for Sam to come in and as she slips by him in the doorway, any previous amusement he has, vanishes. “No time’s a bad time for you, Carter.”

It’s an honest statement, not a question by any means, and he hears the slight hitch in Sam’s breathing. “Thank you.”

Jack chooses to watch her for a moment longer, then clears his throat. “Want a beer?”

She nods in response, then holds up a six-pack of Guinness.

“Excellent,” he grins. He takes the beer but as Sam starts to remove her leather jacket, he sets the Guinness on the floor and reaches out to take the garment from her. He doesn’t fail to notice that she’s wearing a light blue fluffy sweater that hugs her in all the right places and looks far too cosy. He refuses to believe that he’s suddenly jealous of a sweater.

“Are you cold, sir?”

He frowns at her question and it’s only when she gestures towards him that he realizes he’s still wearing his own jacket. “Ah,” he says, “no. I was out back getting some firewood.”

“Do you need a hand with –”

“Nah,” he interrupts with a quirk of the lips, “we’re good for now.”

Sam nods but continues to stare, so Jack tilts his head to the side. “What’s up?”

“Is that a new jacket, sir?”

“Yeah. Kind of.”

“Is that… Velcro?”

A low chuckle escapes him. “It’s an early birthday present from Cassie.”

He goes to take one arm out of the jacket when – for some reason he will never understand – he reaches down to grab the beer at the same time as Carter instead. Their fingers brush over the cardboard cover and as they straighten, they are almost nose-to-nose and Jack swallows hard.

“Why don’t you go and get drinks,” he suggests as he lets go of his hold on the beer so that he can finish getting out of his jacket because he’s now starting to get really, _really_ hot and just a little bit bothered around his major when she’s: one, looking so damn good this evening; and two: looking at him in _that_ way.

He lets out a breath he doesn’t realize he’s been holding when Sam starts to move away, only to collide with his chest a second later.

“Uh… Carter?”

“Sir?”

“Whatcha doin’?”

“I think I’m stuck. On you.”

He’s pretty sure his eyebrows shoot up and he starts to argue – because it’s easier to do that than think about Carter’s last few words – when he steps back and Sam moves closer, again colliding with his chest, and unintentionally pins him against the wall.

“What the –”

Jack glances down and closes his eyes when he discovers the problem. Her sweater, that really cosy sweater, has caught on the Velcro of his jacket.

“Carter,” a little puff of air ruffles her fringe as he sighs, “please tell me you’re – that sweater – that you’ve – ”

He refuses to meet Sam’s gaze, but given their close proximity, he feels every movement as she slowly shakes her head.

“No, sir.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, “that’s what I figured.” He waits a moment and then risks a glance. “Got a plan to get us out of this?”

“Me?”

“Yeah. I mean it is _your_ sweater –”

“It’s _your_ jacket.”

“Okay,” he mutters in defeat, “think, O’Neill.”

A snort escapes Sam.

“No giggling, Carter. Right,” he adds a moment later as he takes the beer from her and sets it on the edge of the small hall unit to his left.

“Think you can navigate my house backwards?” She gives him a look and he shrugs. “What, you wanna try and figure this out here? In the hallway? Against the wall?”

She scrunches her nose and quickly shakes her head. “The bedroom?”

_Yes. Because that's a much better idea._

There’s a heavy silence that falls for a moment, then he sighs. Because it’s inevitable.

“The bedroom,” he repeats solemnly.

Without another word, they start to make their way down the hall and towards the master bedroom and all Jack can think about is how impressed he is with himself at the amount of self-control he’s asserting because he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t wondered what it would be like to do _just this_ with Sam, only she’d be in his arms and they’d be kissing and –

_“Sir?”_

That one word cuts through his thoughts and he looks around to see that they’ve made it into his bedroom.

“Okay,” he says. “Now what?”

He glances down to see Sam blushing and she offers a half-shrug. “I don’t know. I didn’t think that far ahead.”

“You know, Carter,” he huffs. “There _are_ easier ways to get into my bedroom.”

The silence that follows his comment, makes him realize that he’s uttered the words out loud and he swears softly when he feels Sam’s shoulders start shaking. He risks a look to find her blush deepening, but she looks more amused than anything else, so he lets out a breath.

“I think we both know what we need to do.”

“Yeah,” he concedes.

With a nod, Sam glances over her shoulder towards the dresser at the far side of the room. “Um, where –”

“You’ll find a tee in the second drawer down.”

“Okay.”

They start to make their way towards the dresser, only for Sam to misjudge the angle and the back of her legs hit the edge of the bed, sending them both sprawling. Jack has just enough time to stop his entire weight from landing on his second-in-command but as a result, his hands are now resting either side of Sam’s head, their noses are virtually touching, and he can’t help but notice how Sam’s chest is rising and falling as her breathing starts to quicken.

Her gaze flicks to his lips and her tongue darts out to wet her bottom lip and he’s to close his eyes to try and erase the image from his mind. It doesn’t work, and to make matters worse, his forehead is now touching hers. His eyes snap open.

_“Shit,”_ he whispers.

Without thinking, he hooks an arm under Sam’s back and manages to get them both to their feet, and it takes him too long to realize that Sam’s forehead is now resting on his shoulder, while somehow his traitorous hands are resting on her hips.

“Plan B,” he says, choosing to ignore the roughness in his voice.

“Plan B?”

“Yeah.”

“And that involves…”

He purses his lips as he tries to think of a plan. “I could try and lift my jacket over my head,” he suggests, only to stop when Sam shakes her head.

“It’s got to be me.”

She takes a deep breath; one Jack feels right down to his toes, before Sam places her hands on his sides. It’s agonising and complete torture as he holds her gaze and watches her slowly drop to her knees before him as she fidgets and starts to shimmy out of her sweater.

It’s all going fine. He’s reciting gate addresses silently to himself when Sam’s hands move lower and she accidentally brushes against him _there._ He curses and thinks he hears her mutter an apology before she laughs softly. _Evil woman._

But he does find himself relax slightly – and that’s his big mistake. Because that’s when he becomes vulnerable and all of a sudden, the noise and feel and smell of Sam around him starts to become too much and when he feels Sam’s fingers slowly curl around the material of his jeans, he closes his eyes at the sensation it arouses. He’s counting down the seconds until things become really awkward when her voice interrupts his thoughts.

“I’m almost there, sir.”

He grits his teeth and stops that train of thought before it can go _anywhere._

“Carter, ” he grunts. “As nice as this is, do you think you could – I don’t know… hurry it up a bit. I’m –”

He hears a muffled curse before Sam’s hold on his jeans tightens. “Sam,” he moans.

“Hang on,” she huffs, “I’m coming.”

_“Carter!”_

A second later, she reappears in his line of vision. She’s still on her knees, but the sweater is gone and instead his gaze inadvertently falls to the black bra she is wearing _and just when did his hands manage to move to her shoulders?!_

“Umm, guys?”

He feels Carter freeze before him as he slowly turns his head to look and finds Daniel and Teal’c standing in the doorway.

“This isn’t what it looks like!”

**Author's Note:**

> For Sandra, who wanted a fic centered around the prompt ‘Velcro’. Thanks also to agrainne24 for casting an eye over my writing.


End file.
